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21 posts from November 2010

Ryan was home for Thanksgiving, and as part of Operation Make The Most Out of Having My Entire Family Together for a Few Days, the four of us went out to dinner early Saturday evening.

After we put in our drink orders, I got up to wash my hands. On my way to the washroom, I passed a mom and two kids at a table near the back of the restaurant. The kids were a boy and a girl, probably about 8 and 12. The mom appeared to be in her late 30s. I noticed that she wasn't wearing a wedding ring. I wondered if she was divorced, and this was part of her weekend with the kids.

The boy was holding a Nintendo DS up, furiously smashing the buttons. The girl was wearing headphones, and watching something on a device that was either an iPod or iPhone. The woman, who I assumed was their mother, looked sad and resigned. My heart ached for them all, as I passed them.

When I got back to our table, I put my arm around Nolan and hugged him.

"What was that for?" He said.

"For coming out to dinner with us, and actually being here. It really means a lot to me that we're actually together, and not just sitting at the same table."

"Uhhh, okay," he said.

I kissed the top of his head. "I love you."

"Okay, Wil," he said, not unkindly, "I love you too."

He and Ryan shared one of those "Wil's being sentimental again" looks that I've seen so often over the last decade or so.

Nolan stage whispered to Ryan, "He is so weird."

I looked over at Ryan. "I'm so glad you're home."

"Me too."

Anne and I shared one of those "we sure do have an awesome family" looks that we've shared so often over the last decade or so.

I'm super excited that they're doing this, because I can replace mine (there was an unfortunate incident when I failed a DEX check and took ongoing stain damage that not even the washing machine could end), but also because we've improved the design a little bit for the reprint.

When I thought up this design, I wanted it to look very similar to the old D&D sourcebooks that I loved as a kid. To that end, I suggested thin, dark lines to hold it all together. In theory, this is awesome; in practice, it's pretty easy to lose the thin black lines on the dark grey shirt. Unfortunately, I didn't realize or consider this until I'd seen it a few thousand times on other people at conventions all over the place. So when I was contacted about doing How We Roll as a reprint for the holidays, I suggested that we make the lines a little heavier, and make them white instead of black. The crew at shirt.woot waved their magic wands, and it was done.

Here's what the revised design looks like:

By the way, your DM told me that if you wear this to the next session, you get +2 on the roll of your choice.

My son Ryan came home for Thanksgiving, and before he left, my dad and I had planned to take him and his brother to play Frisbee golf.

When I got up today, it was fifty-seven degrees below zero, and the wind was gusting with gusto (HA HA HA), and I knew the conditions were not, shall we say, optimal for the playing of disc golf. Or being outside, for that matter.

I called my dad, and asked him if he wanted to go out to lunch, instead. He suggested that we go bowling, and then go to lunch.

Now, I am a terrible bowler, and not a huge fan, but I love doing things with my dad, and I love doing things with my boys, so bowling was more of an excuse to spend more time together than we would if we only went to lunch.

I put on the best bowling shirt I own and drove over to the bowling alley, where my first three frames went like this: 0-1, 0-3, X. I went on to win that game with something around 150. I told Twitter: I just won at bowling, and didn't have to break anyone up to do it. Today, life does not imitate art.

The second game, I bowled spares through the first 7 frames, but my dad was matching me and dropping a few strikes in there himself, so by the 10th frame, I needed to throw a turkey (two strikes followed by a spare, incidentally, is now called a TOFURKEY in the Wheaton Hall of Bowling Nomenclature.) I didn't pull it off, and my dad edged me for the win. I told Twitter: I shanked my last ball, and didn't want to break up my parents to win, so my dad edged me out to win the second game.

Ryan and Nolan had a blast, too, giving out high fives, sincere and mocking applause as appropriate, and issuing the required number of Team Homer and Lebowski references.

After bowling, we went to Lucky Baldwin's for some pub food. When I got home, I made this stupid cell phone video in my living room:

It was truly wonderful to have three generations of Wheaton Men together, and it meant the world to me to spend the day with people I love, as both father and son.

In this video, I say that I won at bowling, but the more I think about it, today I feel kind of like I won at life.

Most of us are awkward teenagers; it's a class feature that stays with us until we level up to our twenties.

But most of you didn't have your awkward teenage years play out in front of the world, preserved for future generations to enjoy, thusly:

Talk about deer in the headlights! Everything about my awkward teenage years is captured in that photo: I'm nervous, self-conscious, and forcing a smile so whoever is taking this picture will please just go away as quickly as possible. I haven't looked in a teen magazine since I was, well, in them, (and I don't know if non-Bieber-specific ones ever exist) but I wonder if the people who are in them today (Bieber and otherwise) are photographed in the same harsh flash and unflattering awkwardness that seemed to be endemic to the teen magazines in the late 80s.

(Thanks ... I think ... to @jennabryson, who says, "Look what my mom found, @wilw -- she cleaned out & sold my childhood dresser & this was inside" for sharing that photo.)

Two days in a row, in two different places, twenty miles apart, I’ve seen two hawks circle in the sky above me.

I know it’s simple coincidence, but I like to believe that they’re the same pair, soaring gracefully and beautifully on thermal currents just for me, so I don’t forget to appreciate the simple beauty of the world around me.

(Of course, it's also possible that they are stalking me, waiting for me to fall to the ground dead, because they’re from the future and know something that I don’t.)

I suppose the moral is: Don't forget to appreciate the simple beauty of the world around you, because you never know when deathhawks from the future will show up and ruin your day.

While walking through my neighborhood yesterday, I wondered what actually went on behind those manicured lawns and drawn curtains. I wondered how much I really knew my neighbors.

This is what my brain spat out:

Ian missed living in a city that didn’t keep any secrets from him, where everything was out in the open: junkies, hookers, pan handlers, rich snobs and bad cops. You knew where you stood with everyone in the city, and everyone in the city knew where they stood with you.

In the suburbs, though, everyone had a secret. Two houses up, the Doyles were overdue on three months’ of bills, but they kept paying the gardener to come and keep up appearances. Across the street, Mrs. Canton practically begged every delivery boy who came to the door to fuck her, except on Sunday when she went door to door, passing out bible tracts. Next door, Doctor and Mrs. Thompson argued quietly and intensely almost every night about their son, who they’d put into a group home for troubled youth.

Day after day, Ian smiled and waved to his neighbors, while recording all of their secrets in journals and photo albums.

When the police finally found the bodies buried in the loose dirt of his basement, his neighbors were shocked: “He was quiet,” Doctor Thompson said. “He kept to himself,” Mrs. Thompson added.

“He never left his garbage cans out. He kept a lovely lawn,” The Doyles told investigators.

When the handsome young reporter from Channel 6 came to her door, Mrs. Canton smiled carefully and said, “Would you like to come inside and talk about it over a cup of coffee?”

I worked on it a little bit yesterday, and again this morning, mostly focusing it on the beats I wanted to put together. I'll be honest: I'm nervous to release fiction, even short fiction like this (just 239 words) to the world without even showing it to an editor, first ... but the point of this isn't to be perfect, it's to be creative. So, writers who are afraid to show their work to readers: if I can do this, so can you.

I did a bunch of writing this morning, but I still don't have a monster to unleash on the villagers. I'm not going to lie to you, Marge, it's kind of frustrating, and my goddamn inner critic is screaming at me that I'm terrible and it's stupid and they're all going to laugh at me, which doesn't help even a tiny bit. Don't worry, I'll get over it.

Still, it was enough that I felt like I'd earned the right to make an X on the calendar in the "Creative" box, which is kind of the whole point right now. To continue the running comparison, I'm still just trying to make it around the track without throwing up, which is fine.

I also got a stupid idea for a stupid cell phone video, and made this:

I also customized my band in Rock Band 3 (I bet you didn't know that a large part of writing is not actually writing, but doing all sorts of other things when you should be writing and calling it "letting my mind wander" or something like that), which could also be considered creative. We're three hot girls and me, and we're called Abby Nermal. Our logo is a cute cat who has swallowed a fish that glows inside its tummy.

Today's effort to do something creative didn't result in anything I can actually publish (yet), but was still enjoyable and worthwhile, and I wanted to share something about the experience that I hope some of you find useful.

I'm disappointed that I don't have anything to point to and say, "hey, I made this", because even though I think it's an unreasonable expectation, I still hoped that I'd be able to pull together a 100-300 word story, like some of my friends do.

Yeah, it turns out that making something up and giving it life, as opposed to remembering it and recreating it, is hard enough without trying to cram it all into a very small space. Being seriously out of practice after spending months focused on acting didn't help, and the ideas I had just couldn't be assembled into a monster from their individual parts. (They looked lovely, though, spread out all over the lab, and the thrumming of all my mad scientist electrical equipment was ... energizing, to say the least.)

But this doesn't mean that it wasn't worthwhile. I don't have something to show off today, but one or both of them may be available soon ... and even if they aren't, I still spent a considerable amount of time today working at it. I spent a lot of time and energy today being a writer, being a creator, and that goes down as a good day in my log book.

I guess this could be compared to a runner working really hard and logging a lot of miles trying to get a faster time, or greater distance than before: even if that specific goal isn't met, she still got a whole lot of good exercise.

I don't usually promote RFB on my blog, but I had a lot of fun putting this episode together, so there you go.

Speaking of things I don't promote enough, did you know I partnered with Jinx to make some spiffy T-shirts? The costume department at Big Bang Theory even chose one of them for Evil Wil Wheaton to wear in The 21-second Excitation. I thought it was a pretty clever bit of meta meta. As it happens, that shirt is my favorite of all the shirts we did together, so hooray for that, too.

I saw this image on Geekosystem yesterday. It made me smile, and I thought it was a good excuse to dig this out of the archives:

You may note that, in the linked image, the adorable cat is sitting next to a "beer", unwilling to even consider drinking it (smart cat) but in this image, Freddy Snowpants (RIP) enjoyed his first Stone Pale Ale so much, he felt strange but also good and couldn't even open his second one.